When I was 10, I was mad that I couldn’t wear a crop-top and mini-skirt like Cher from Clueless.
I would try it on for size and pout at my sizable tummy, my little fat rolls and the way my bum made my skirt raise up a little too much in the back.
In true 90’s fashion I wanted to wear glitter on my eyes, tie a plaid t-shirt around my waist with a white cropped tee and rollerblade down the street in all my sassy glory. The few times I made it around the block, however, I was called a lot of names that had more power over me than I wanted to admit.
From years of admiring thin, beautiful women I had no concept of what was real - All I knew was that I was sub-par. The girls who surrounded me throughout junior high made sure to consistently remind me of this fact.
I would invite girls over for slumber parties only to discover they looked at me the way Cher looked at Tai - A project, something to fix and improve. They’d pull at my hair, suggest weight-loss tips and ways to diminish my flourishing acne issues.
I distinctly remember curling up in bed wearing purple lipstick and black platform shoes that I could “never pull off” and crying so hard you’d think someone had died. My mom would ask me what was wrong and all I could say was “I am too fat to dress the way I want to.”
As I have been seeking positive change in my life, fashion is one thing I have always wanted to embrace but have never been able to. My urge to express my personality through the way I dress has been suppressed for so long that I find it the hardest thing to overcome.
How does one erase all the shit that held them back for so long? I don’t know, but I am bored of the clothes in my closet.